Inside was warm and quiet and the people were nice.
Outside was noisy and confusing and she didn't know her way.
Inside was familiar and everything was in its place.
Outside was where she was supposed to be.
Inside was where she needed to be.
The Doctor wanted her to go outside.
Her voices wanted her to stay inside.
The Doctor said the voices were bad.
The Doctor said to leave the voices behind.
The Doctor said it would be easy.
All she had to do, was walk through that doorway.
Snatches of songs and sayings run through my head - I am feeling strange - and strangely philosophical. I want to say I am empty and ask you to fill me up - as if you were the hose delivering the fuel I need to run my soul. But that, of course, is silly and you aren't in the mood for silly, are you? Or weird or strange? But I seem to be.
So much to say. So much to do. So little said or done.